Uncover Me

by Linda Barlow

  "Nick was clever. He managed to acquire a fine education," Sir Avery went on. "As for Nigel, he doesn't have all the fancy academic credentials, but that's never prevented him from getting ahead in life, has it, my boy?"

  "I have my business. I don't need degrees," Nigel agreed.

  "What is your business, sir?" I asked.

  "I'm an international art broker."

  How convenient.

  "Nick wanted to be an archaeologist like me," his grandfather continued. "As a child that's all he ever talked about. He had talent, too, and far more patience than Nigel. That's what it requires, you know, endless patience and persistence. Good instincts, too, of course."

  "What happened to make him change his mind?"

  Sir Avery looked puzzled. "He didn't change his mind. He's quite well known in his field." I must have looked surprised, because Sir Avery smiled and nodded. "He hasn't told you? He's never been one to toot his own horn. He's a highly skilled translator of ancient texts. That's his specialty. It would be difficult to find an ancient script that Nick is unfamiliar with. I was never good at that sort of thing myself."

  I tried to factor this information in with what I already knew about Nick. His scholarly resume kept getting longer.

  "Ellie."

  Maybe his "training" had worked, because the sound of Nick's voice in my ear caused my entire body to leap to attention. He was standing behind my chair. When he placed his warm hands on my shoulders, his touch set off a riot of sparkles along my nerves. I tried to counter it with a large sip of raki, but I could still feel desire burning me all the way down to my bones.

  Nick raised a glass to me. "Sherefe, hayatim," he said, Turkish for cheers.

  "Sherefe," I repeated, mangling the accent. Hayatim? That was an endearment. He must be drunk.

  The rest of the evening passed in a haze. I gulped raki, which helped to push away my fear and confusion. When the fruit was eaten, the men moved the table aside. Out of the shadows appeared a tabor, then someone produced an oud, and a third man came out with an ancient violin. They began to play, not well or tunefully, but with great enthusiasm. As the music swelled, several of the workers got up and began to dance.

  "Come, Nicholas bey, join us," someone shouted.

  Nick rose. Someone handed him a battered wooden instrument—a crude flute. He played upon it while weaving in and out of the line of dancers, moving to the music of Turkish folk dances he'd probably been taught in his youth. The instrument was a poor one, but he seemed to take pride in making it sing. I watched, transfixed. There was a kind of magic in him.

  He danced, whirling, one with the music, one with the night. As I watched him, my mind also whirled. His beauty assaulted me, spearing me like jagged lightning. With that nimbus of gold around his head and those long, tan supple limbs, there was none to touch him for pure masculine grace.

  Like Pan now, not Apollo, his piping summoned me to join the revels, share the dance. My raki was finished, my head was light and my blood throbbing in my veins. I put down my glass and was moving toward the charmed circle when I felt the weight of Nigel's hand on my shoulder. He was not gentle. I shuddered as I felt his fingertips dig into the flesh of my shoulder. "He neglects you," his suave voice murmured near my ear. "Leave him and come with me."

  He probably believed his voice was seductive, but to me it sounded sinister. He was probably thinking about my anal virginity! "You hate your cousin, don't you?"

  "How I feel about him has nothing to do with this," he assured me, smiling in that weird-ass kindly manner of his. I noticed that he, too, had dressed for dinner. He was wearing different clothes, including a different white shirt and even a dinner jacket. Different shoes, too—even more stylish than the ones he'd been wearing a few hours before. There was a thick gold ring on one of his fingers and an expensive watch on his wrist. "But I might be able to offer you a pleasanter and more opulent life than he can."

  "How extraordinarily kind of you," I said, not even trying to disguise my sarcasm. "But I have zero interest in ever becoming your fuck toy."

  His handsome face darkened. I'd made a mistake. I'd just broken the docile submissive code of behavior. Damn my wayward tongue! And damn the raki—I'd drunk too much of the stuff.

  "I see." His strong, tan face was thoughtful, predatory. The hand on my shoulder moved to my hair. With a jerk, he grabbed the knot of hair at the back of my neck and pulled on it until my scalp stung. Most of my hair slipped free of the knot and tumbled to my shoulders, where he caressed it as if he had a right to do so. I wanted to pull away, or maybe slap him, but Nick's warnings restrained me. I was playing the role of a slave, and slaves didn't stand up to assholes like Nigel.

  "Maybe Nicholas will tire of you. I hope I'm around when he does. You need to be taught some manners."

  Burn in hell, asswipe.

  Avoiding his gaze, I turned my head just in time to catch Nick's eye across the smoky room. He must have noticed that Nigel had his hand on me. He laid aside his flute and left the dance, moving swiftly to my side. I watched him come, exulting in his easy stride, which was unimpaired by all the raki he'd consumed.

  He stopped beside me, not yet touching me, but claiming me so obviously that Nigel's features dissolved into a scowl. "Trying to move in, are you?" Nick's words came out in a drawl, but there was a biting undertone.

  "Your redheaded slave is disrespectful," Nigel said. "Either devote more time to her training, or turn her over to someone with a firmer hand."

  Nick smiled an indulgent smile at his cousin, but I saw something flash in his eyes that warned me. "On your knees, slave," he ordered, and the reflex he had painstakingly planted in me kicked in. I dropped to the floor, not even thinking how ridiculous I must look. Nick's hand moved into my hair, which was falling down my back now that Nigel had pulled it loose. "Were you disrespectful to my cousin, girl?"

  "I was rude, Master."

  "Prostrate yourself before him and apologize."

  What? No way. If he thought....The fingers in my hair wound a little tighter. From the hush that had fallen over the room, I knew everybody was watching. And listening, no doubt.

  Swallow your protests even if I tell you to do something you hate. This will be tested, you can count on it.

  Okay. I could do this. I swiveled in the direction of Nigel, who was facing off against Nick. I leaned forward. I could see his beautiful and no doubt expensive shoes under his perfectly-pressed trousers. I bowed my head toward the freaking shoes. When I didn't bow low enough, I was mortified to feel Nick's much less elegant work boot settle on my back and press me down to the floor. "My humble apologies, sir," I said, trying hard not to sound sarcastic. Let's face it, I didn't do humble well, but, on the other hand, it was hard to sound anything else but humble when your face is pressed to the floor.

  "Very pretty," said Nigel. "But I'm afraid that's not good enough. I want more than an apology. Order her to give me a blowjob."

  My stomach rose at the thought. There was a moment of silence, and I felt even sicker. Nick wouldn't give such an order, would he? I hadn't even given him a blowjob yet.

  But I didn't know the rules for this master/slave shit. Could one guy demand that another deal out a punishment of that sort? Dammit, I'd been a fool. Nick had told me I had to stay submissive, but I'd snarled at Nigel the first chance I'd got.

  It struck me as I crouched on the floor that I actually wanted to practice my cock-sucking techniques on Nick. I hadn't yet seen his cock, but I was sure it would be nice. He was my master, not the odious Nigel....

  "The only person who touches my slave sexually is me," Nick said in his usual cold voice.

  "Whip her, then. She needs discipline. I'll even provide my belt for the purpose. What an amusing spectacle it will be for our workers."

  Nigel was enjoying this. I suspected he cared a lot less about disciplining me than embarrassing Nick. But Nick kept his cool. He removed his foot from my back and fisted a hunk of my loose hair. "If I punish
her, it'll be in private. You may rise, slave."

  It probably looked as if he was dragging me to my feet, but it didn't feel that way. He helped me. The room was swaying a bit, which was probably the result of my drinking too much raki. I'd never been much of a drinker. His arm went around my waist and he pulled me close.

  "I didn't agree to a private punishment," Nigel said nastily.

  "Tough," Nick retorted. "Get your own slave if you want to have a say in such matters." He smiled benevolently at the group of avid spectators, then seized my wrist and pulled me back into the area where the men had been dancing. "Come, my girl. I'm going to teach you to dance with all the joy of a Turkish nomad who has wandered for centuries on the steppes of Asia."

  Chapter 17

  ELLIE

  As he led me to the dance area, Nick bent his head and whispered, "I will punish you, too, for being such an idiot."

  "Sorry," I whispered back. "Thanks for not letting him hurt me."

  He gave me one of the first genuinely warm smiles I'd ever seen from him. "I'll never let him hurt you."

  That helped a lot. I still didn't know what game he was playing with his revolting cousin, but I guess I would take his word for it that there was a point to this masquerade. Oh, he had me under his spell, that much was true. I didn't have much choice but to play along. But his smile and the dance helped temper my humiliation at having been forced to scrape the floor and apologize to the detestable Nigel.

  Nick taught me the ancient rhythmic steps and movements. They were lazy and sensual, the beat of the music a quiet throbbing that escalated as we whirled around and around. It was hypnotic, relaxing. In a chain we danced, linking hands, a group of bandits, a golden god and a woman, all charmed into an acceptance of one another. The dance made us equal, the dance made partners of us all. In and out of the smoke and the shadows we glided, repeating the steps over and over while the tabor pounded, the oud twanged and the violin crooned.

  I felt a slow sweat flower on my skin. My heart beat thickly; my red hair, now loose, swirled around my shoulders. The music intensified. The line broke and the dancers performed singly, not touching, but side by side. The steps no longer mattered as the drum sounds rose and quickened. I knew only that I had to keep my body moving in rhythm with the music, that it was a joy to do so. In the dance I forgot my doubts, my fears, my very self.

  Then Nick held me and my spirit took flight. In the ecstasy of the dance, he and I were one. I was gone from my body, gone from the room, lost in a place of unearthly splendor. I whirled there joyously, but it wasn't until Nick's hands cupped my cheeks that I knew.

  I had danced with him before, time out of mind.

  He was my fantasy lover, my mate.

  He was beautiful.

  And he was perfect. Like an ancient alchemist, I knew the gold from the dross. He was gold, pure as fire. Together nothing could stop us; we completed each other; we were one flesh, one soul.

  Total bullshit, I know. I was in a raki-inspired wonderland.

  "Nick?"

  His sculpted face leaned closer; he brushed his mouth across mine. I gasped and parted my lips. I felt the erotic invasion of his tongue.

  I heard voices laughing, and shouting encouragement as Nick's hands slid around my waist and drew me against his sweat-damp body. I felt his hard chest, his lithe and supple thighs, and the contact was sweet-sharp pleasure. Still moving to the music, he swayed his hips in sinuous half circles against mine while I slid my fingers into his gilt waves, holding his head still for my kiss.

  The shouting, the laughter grew louder, closer. Others had stopped their own dancing to watch us. Nick murmured as he accepted the kiss, "My girl, I believe you're drunk."

  I blinked and smiled at him, drunk on desire. Or raki. Or both. "Am I?"

  "Assuredly. Hang on." Shifting his weight, he scooped me up in his arms. There came more laughter, more shouts, all unintelligible sounding—my ability to translate from Turkish to English seemed to have disappeared. Someone, I thought, was having a very good time.

  "What are you doing?" I asked as Nick strode through the smoky room, hardly seeming bothered by my weight in his arms. One of my shoes fell off and I wriggled my bare toes at Metin as we passed. He smiled to me and waved.

  "Taking you to bed."

  The shouts and laughter faded as he carried me down a low, dark corridor, up a flight of stairs and into our room. He slammed the door and turned the key. The room was dark and silent, lighted only by the silvery gleam of a half-moon. Nick moved directly to the mattress on the floor and, dropping to his knees, lowered me upon it.

  Keeping my arms around his neck, I pressed my face against his throat and inhaled the musky scent of him. "Are you coming, too?"

  His chest heaved with a tight laugh. "Yes, I'm coming."

  "Okay," I whispered. I released him, letting my body sink into the mattress. "I was afraid you were going to leave me alone in the dark."

  "No," he said.

  "Nick? Don't ever leave me alone in the dark."

  Nick bent over and kissed my forehead. "I won't, hayatim. I promise."

  Content, I closed my eyes. I felt him sliding my dress up my thighs to my waist, his hands warm and knowledgeable against my bare belly. I arched to help him pull the dress over my head. I felt no embarrassment or shame. I wanted him to look at me.

  He didn't touch my bikini panties or my bra. He left me for a moment, then returned. I opened my eyes a crack.

  "I want you," I whispered. I pushed myself back up to a sitting position and pressed my head against his thighs. I felt a little dizzy, but it wasn't too bad. I knew what I needed to do. I think I'd needed it since the day we'd met.

  I reached for his zipper and pulled it down. It wasn't easy, because his cock was hugely swollen beneath my fingers, making his jeans tighter than they were meant to be. When I pried apart the snap at the top, his beautiful penis lunged out at me, and I giggled. He was going commando—no underwear.

  I slid my fist around it and pumped a couple times, then sucked the head into my mouth. He sighed and grabbed my hair, pulling a little. I didn't mind. I guess I just like it rough.

  Which was good, because he surged into me, driving his hips into my face until I gasped for breath. It took me a few moments to catch his rhythm, but I'd always liked giving head and he tasted delicious to me. I made my lips as round and smooth as I could and sucked on him hard. When he withdrew, I used my tongue on the rim and the underside, and then opened wider for him as he pushed into me repeatedly. I dug my nails into his butt with one hand, and sought his balls with the other.

  God, I was thirsty for him. I don't know why I wanted it so much, but I did. The more I sucked his penis, the more I wanted it in my pussy, which was now drenched and aching for him. He sped up, and I was afraid he'd come and that would be the end of it, the way it always had been with Mark.

  But he groaned and pulled out. I tried to take him again, but he laughed and forced me flat on the mattress. He made short work of my underwear. Pressing my legs apart with his hips, he slid down and spread them even wider with his hands on my inner thighs. "Keep your legs apart for me, slave," he ordered. "I want to fuck you with my tongue."

  I almost came. He made it sound so deliciously sexy. As his mouth moved over my sex, my hips arched up invitingly. I was burning down there. Lost in the ache of passion, wet and ready for him. He nuzzled gently at first, exploring my labia and delving in between. "God, you're so wet for me," he murmured as his tongue stabbed into me.

  I gasped and arched even higher. I'd never had a boyfriend who really enjoyed giving oral, but Nick clearly did. Nothing had ever felt as good as what he was doing to me now. My head buzzed, my muscles flexed, crooning sounds emerged from my throat. When he moved the tip of his tongue to my clit, I think I screamed his name. A finger slid into my pussy and fucked me hard while his tongue kept rubbing and sucking at my clit, and pleasure boiled over, gushing from my core and melting my limbs right down to my fing
ers and toes.

  I was still in the throes of my climax when he left me for a second. He was back quickly, tearing something apart, and I realized it was a condom. I watched, still writhing with the final pulses of climax as he rolled it on his beautiful cock. That was going inside me. I reached for him, wanting it. I was lost in the dreamy feeling that this was right and that everything was just as it should be.

  NICK

  The floor rolled a little as I struggled with the condom, and I thought, damn this boat before I remembered we weren't on the fucking boat. Too much raki. Ellie was flying on the stuff, and I was none too sober either. Which probably meant I shouldn't be doing what I was about to do.

  I hadn't intended it. The gods knew I'd been trying my best not to force myself on Ellie. She was so damn vulnerable, so brave, so alone. She was turning to me tonight only because she was besieged and desperate and there wasn't anybody else.

  But her body was sweet and slender, and I needed her so much. She'd danced like a Gypsy princess, all proud and loose and limber, her wild fiery hair whipping the air around her as she twirled. She was passionate, a wavering flame that could easily ignite into brilliant, fervent fire. And she'd just exploded, keening out her pleasure in a voice that had just about melted my heart. It delighted me that I could show her that not all our interactions had to be crude or rough.

  Images of the crude and rough things I yearned to do to her surfaced. Bind her, spread her wide, tease her until she begged for release. Spank her. Whip her. Force her to gratify every dark desire I had ever fantasized about. I clenched my fingers into fists, resisting those shadowy impulses. I'd never had trouble controlling myself before, but for some reason Ellie turned me into a hound yanking at an ever-tightening chain.

  Her eyes were closed once again, accepting, trusting. She must be amazingly sweet-natured or she'd never have accepted me after all the shit I'd put her through. I gathered myself, all my discipline, all my self-control, trying to resist the urge to fall on her and bury my cock just as deep as it would go. Deeper. I wanted to plow her, ravage her, fuck her insensible. Her soft lips curved in a tantalizing smile, and fuck, I was so lost. I was going to take her despite my qualms. She'd probably hate me in the morning when the raki had cleared her system. I might even hate myself, but right now I didn't care. Let me have the night, then let the morning come and do its worst.